The Cassidy Kid
by Wyrdchoice
Summary: But she couldn’t waste time. She had to leave. She had to leave or they would get her, riddle a thousand holes in her body. Her eyes would be blind forever. Cassidy was scared.


!!!IMPORTANT NOTE TO ANYONE WHO MAY HAVE READ THIS ALREADY: All of the chapters in this story are being revised. The plot is not going to change, just what I wrote and how certain things occur. This chapter was revised to provide more insight to the characters mentioned in the original 'End of the West' draft.

IMPORTANT NOTE TO ANYONE WHO HAS NOT READ THIS ALREADY: There are no newsies in this chapter. There are no newsies until chapter two. So don't whine to me saying this is not a newsie fanfic, cuz it is; I just haven't gotten to that part of the plot yet. I need to set the stage for the story to have substance.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own newsies, just the characters/settings/situations/plot I made up, and I'm not profiting or whatever… this goes for all chapters beyond this one also.

A/N: I have decided to write my own newsie fanfic not just because I don't like any of the ones I've read recently, but because I'm tired of forgetting plot ideas that could actually turn into something interesting. Enjoy the fourth draft of this chapter… or is it the fifth draft?

Ch. 1: End of the West

Harker leaned over his breakfast, glaring at the fried eggs and toast. They glared back at him, hissing. "This all ye got, Marie?" Marie whirled angrily around, her eyes ice cold and unwavering. He looked nervously back to his breakfast. "It's wonderful, darling." She nodded pertly and went back to curdling milk. Harker sighed and slowly picked up his fork.

Cassidy watched him from across the table. "Strike one," she muttered, so only Harker could hear. The old man glared at her from across the table while she inhaled her breakfast. "You should learn ta be more thankful," she pointed at him, mouth full of food.

Harker was not in the mood for the girl's antics today. "Do you want me to kick you out again?" he hissed quietly, but not quiet enough for his wife not to hear. Cassidy chuckled at the horrified look on Harker's face as his wife quickly descended upon him.

"Eat your food." Her glare was as poisonous as a rattlesnake. "I have enough to worry about without you threatening that poor Cassidy girl day in and day out." Marie slapped him lightly on the cheek and walked out the back door towards the barn, shouting, "one more complaint out of you, Jonathan, and you're sleepin' in the stables!"

This made Cassidy groan. "What's got her knickers in a bunch?" she asked, standing up and putting her plate in the sink. The stables were where Cassidy slept, as she technically wasn't a part of the family. If Harker were to be kicked out of the house, he would probably kick her outside, and sleeping out in the cold wasn't a pleasing thought.

Harker sneered maliciously, eager to irritate her. "We've got a visitor coming in. A very important visitor."

"Anyone I know?" She sifted through the cupboards looking for a cup.

"Why, I think you might," he commented, pretending to be thinking about it.

"Spit it out, old man." She poured herself water, and put it to her lips to take a sip.

Harker turned towards her with a fake smile. "Charles Jaegar, he's one of your old friends, ain't he?" Cassidy spat out the water in his face. He almost fell out of his chair, sputtering.

"Charlie!?! What the hell would he be doin' here?" Her face was tinged red with anger and pain. She threw the cup in the sink, splashing dishwater on the floor. "And you, not tellin' me? Do you really hate me that much, you bastard?? Do you know how infuriated he'll be when he sees me again?? After what happened? You, of all people, should know that ain't wise!" she shouted, hands balled into fists.

Harker wiped the water off his face with his napkin after regaining his composure, trying not to let his short temper take him over. "He and I have talked through mail; I fixed the little screw up you made three years ago. He is willing to take me back into his fold." He folded his arms neatly as if he were some sort of gentleman. "We are going to have a man's meeting tonight to discuss business, and you had better not ruin it." He sneered loftily, hiding the implied threat. There was fear in his eyes. It was small, but it was there. Was it for her safety or his?

"You mean the drunk men's meeting," Cassidy muttered, fuming.

Harker finally blew up. He stood up abruptly, causing the girl to back up slowly. She almost tripped over a chair. "Get out of my house," he commanded, pointing towards the door with a trembling calloused finger. "I can't believe I let Marie talk me into even letting you eat with us," he spat venomously.

"I can't believe you think you're da one who calls the shots around here," she mumbled as she scampered out of the house. "Marie's got you wrapped around her wrinkled finger." He threw a fork at her, which she barely dodged. It lodged itself in a fencepost. "Damned old man…" Cassidy untied her black bandana from around her neck and mopped her already sweating face with it. It was a good thing Harker didn't drink in the mornings, or he might have thrown something worse.

Marie trudged up to Cassidy, staring at the still vibrating fork curiously. "Harker hasn' been causing you any trouble, has he?" She placed her hands on her hips, exasperated. "Always gets more nervous when he has to do business."

Cassidy looked up sharply. "Is that what he told you? He told me Chahlie was comin' again; you know, the one from Chicago." Marie's ailing eyes widened, then shrank to angry slits. Cassidy had to grab her arm to keep her from stampeding back into the kitchen to kill her husband. "I'd steer clear of the house tonight, he's gonna have one of his stupid 'meetings' again." Marie stopped fighting Cassidy's grip and went limp. The young girl let her go and kicked at the dirt with her boot, head hanging forlornly.

Cassidy heard Marie sigh heavily and lean against the creaking fence. "I used to think I could keep Jonathan from doing anything stupid, you know that?" Cassidy nodded, her head still watching the dirt swirl beneath her feet in the wind. "I wish I knew what I knew now before his friends started him drinkin'. He's a good man, deep down though. Otherwise I wouldn't have married him. He's so nice when his friends aren't preying upon his mind."

Cassidy knew this. Harker had treated her like a real person before Charlie came around, at least when his drinking friends weren't at his heels. "You should probably stay with Mrs. Smith tonight," whispered Cassidy.

"And I think you should lock yourself in the stables, just like in the old days," she sighed again, patting the young girl on the shoulder. "You should probably go live with your Indian friends until Charlie's gone too, I don't like him one bit."

Cassidy heard Marie relieve the fence of her weight and saw her black boots walk purposefully towards the kitchen door; she lifted her head up to see it close behind her old friend. Cassidy did not envy the headache Harker would have when his wife was done screaming at him. She started walking down the worn dirt road that led away from the Harker's ranch. Today could not be wasted.

Dust danced up towards the sky as Cassidy jogged along the lonely road, holding her cumbersome skirts so as not to entangle them with her legs. The wind grew greater and tugged at her brown cowboy hat, begging it to fly away into oblivion. Blue skies and a bright sun watched her as she went on her way into the slums of San Francisco.

Throngs of disillusioned men crowded the dingy streets. An almost deafening din was made from their voices haggling and selling with the populace. Seagulls flew overhead, thick as smoke. Cassidy wormed her way through the crowd, dodging arms and elbows, running through smelly alleyways. She quickly reached her destination, a dusty building that looked just like all the others, except that the sign swinging above the door could be read: 'Firearm Supplies'. She stalled before she stepped in, inhaling slowly. She pointed her head a bit farther upwards than she normally did, back straight and tall, and marched in.

A middle-aged man with little hair stopped her by pushing her backwards a step. She sighed, back slumping. "Not today Cassidy, I gots real business, and you would be endangerin' it." He pushed her even further toward the door.

"All I need's some ammo," she pleaded. "And I have all the money to pay for it this time. Besides, I won't be able to leave town if I don't have any ammo for protection," she added, smiling disarmingly up at the pudgy man.

He sifted through her words slowly, watching her expression. Finally, he sighed and went behind the counter. "This is the last time I'm helpin' you out, you hear me girl?" He waved an accusing finger at her and she nodded. He pulled out a small paper box from a cupboard on the wall and handed it to her. "Now, I don't want Harker hearing about this and I think you know why."

"I know why," Cassidy said shortly. "That's why I'm leavin' as soon as the sun comes up tomorrow." She tossed a jingling bag into the man's hands. "Thanks for being so understanding, Brye," she called and turned to walk out.

"Cassidy…" He was suspicious. "…Cassidy, you aren't getting supplies for someone else, are ya?" He hunched over so he could look at her eye to eye. "Because it's wrong to give animals such things, and you know it."

Cassidy stared him in the eye, unblinking. "They aren't animals." She tromped out the door, her face darkened. His calculating gaze watched her as she left.

The blurry day passed on quickly, but Cassidy had the feeling that it would go on forever. She was at the train station. The people passing in and out of her sight scared her each time, for she was afraid of whom they could be. He had to pass through this way. She needed to see him, to know he was still real. She was deeply afraid of him, but maybe if she saw him she would see he wasn't really the monster he had become in her dreams. Maybe her mind was giving him a mask. Maybe she had just made up all those memories. So she had to wait for him.

The daily trains rushed by, some stopping, some not. Flashes of rusty red and gold flew past Cassidy's eyes, screams and whistles jarred Cassidy's ears. But still she stayed, watching the ant armies of business people going about their day, not noticing the small gray spider lurking in the dark corner. She waited.

Then he came. It was hours later and the sun was setting. Cassidy was cramped and slightly cold sitting on a crate. She quickly dodged behind it.

Charlie Jaegar was an intimidating, imposing man; he had the handsome looks of a young bachelor out to find his love, yet there was something lurking in the murky underneath. His skin seemed like a cover, a wrapping that was becoming worn. Charlie was… a snake. Death lived in his eyes, something enthralling yet horrible.

His tailored black suit fit him perfectly as every gentlemanly costume always did; he stood tall and arrogant and magnificent, eyes flashing around the train station as if quietly assessing its weak and strong points. His perfectly slicked-back brown hair shone in the dim light as he motioned for a man to take his lone suitcase. Two men smoking cigars stepped off the train behind him as he walked toward the swinging doors on the other side of the station. Cassidy shrank back, even though he wasn't even near enough to her to see the crate.

She peered after him as he stalked out of the building, cronies right behind him. Dusting her dress off as she stood up, Cassidy darted the other way outside, towards the train. There was an entrance to an alley next to it, and Cassidy ran into it, dodging puddles of refuse. It would be getting dark soon, and she wanted to get into the stables before it was too late and she was locked out. Bad things happened to girls all alone under the veil of night. There were no bystanders to see, or remember, as most people out at night in the slums were intoxicated with one drug or another. The red sun darkened on the shrouded horizon.

Harker's home was dimly lit with gas lamps. Chairs from the kitchen and den had been pulled into a circle next to the flaming fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Charlie was seated in a high-backed red armchair, his thugs flanking him at each side. He was leaning aristocratically back into the shadows, eyes glinting at each man that walked in through Harker's door. There were eight of them. One with a black tattoo on his arm seated himself on Charlie's left, close to the fire. The rest wouldn't go near him.

Cassidy watched the men walk in the front door from the side of the barn, nervously smoking a cigarillo. The door closed and someone shut the windows of the house and the yard was the moon's to light again. She leaned against the wall, blowing out twirling fumes. She had to wait.

If only Charlie had never come into her life. If only she hadn't gone to Chicago with Harker and him. If only she had realized that Charlie was not a person that cared about anyone. Then nothing would have ever happened. He would have left Cassidy and her friends alone. Charlie would never have made the deal with Harker five years ago; Cassidy knew he had done it because of her, he had told her so. She inhaled smoke deeply, almost coughing. Why had Charlie come back? He hated her. He had no reason to be here.

A horse neighed softly as the girl walked into the stables, recognizing the sound of her footfalls. Cassidy hummed back and climbed into her horse's stall before stomping out her smoke. She pulled a pair of denim trousers off of a rope hanging across the wall. The horse nudged her face. "Sorry Jack, I don't have any treats for you tonight," she crooned, nuzzling his long face. She changed into the pants and a shirt, using her holster to keep her pants up. She leaned against the window and stared across the grave yard. "We're gonna leave when it gets light again, Jack," she said more to herself than the horse. "We're gonna meet some old friends again." Her mouth crinkled slowly upwards, but she frowned when she remembered who was in the house sitting in front of her. "I don't know what I'll do if I run into him face to face." Her voice was almost unintelligible. She couldn't look anymore; she slid down the wall to the hay-strewn ground. It was much more welcoming than the blackness outside. Her horse snorted worriedly.

"It'll be fine, it always ends up fine." She patted the horse's inquiring nose, trying not to let her nerves get the better of her. She hugged herself tightly, becoming a little ball. "We'll make it end up fine."

Inside the ranch house, Harker settled down in the last available chair, which was the one to the right of Charlie's. He shifted uncomfortably in his new suit. "Welcome, gentlemen, to the business meeting." There was a wave of nods. Harker gestured towards Charlie. "This is our business partner and my boss, Charles Jaegar." There was a chorus of shifty "hello's" and "how are you's".

The young man smirked and gestured towards one of the men flanking his chair. The one to his left produced a cuban cigar from his coat pocket, lighted it, and handed it to Charlie, who took a long drag. Every man's eyes were fixed on the cigar when he took it out of his mouth and lowered it slowly, leaving a wispy silver trail. "Good evening, gentlemen." The coarse tone in his voice did not seem to fit with his royal looks. The confidence it exuded did, though. "Tonight I will give you a proposal." He flicked ashes from his cigar onto the floor lazily. "This proposal will give you a percentage of a very good profit." At this, the men leaned forward in their chairs, eyes gleaming in the dark. He had them. "We are going to be growing a very good crop, here, gentlemen. A very good one." He told them of his profitable plan carefully and the men lapped it up, every last one of them. They were so eager to win his trust and gain his money that they did not notice they were falling into an unalterable trap.

It was late at night, and inside the bar a couple of raucous gold diggers were gossiping about the day's happenings. Shouts and punches could be heard throughout the meager establishment, but the occupants were already almost deaf, so it didn't matter. Cigar smoke created a haze that floated around inside frequent customer's heads. A small group of men were hunched over in an unlit corner, sipping booze and talking in hushed tones.

Suddenly one of them smiled, revealing his grimy excuse for teeth. "Well boys, I think that's mighty fine and all, but you has to remember that the Cassidy kid is friends wit dah freaks," he slurred. "I'm not sures about you, Harper, but I don't wanta get mixed wit' her kind. I heard she been armin' em up, givin' 'em guns n' things." This received an audible gasp from the group, causing him to chuckle.

"You spekkin' the truth, Brye? 'Dis 'ent one of your hallucinations, is it?" Harper sounded out 'hallucination' as if it were from a foreign tongue. He buried his gray nose in his drink. The rest of the group did the same, their eyes twitching about. They all jumped and snapped their greedy eyes to Harper when he slammed his drink down forcefully, the dirty sleeves of his shirt flapping. "We has to make a stand," he growled, greasy beard wagging. "We has to git them injuns afores they gits us anyways, it's like hittin' two birds with one stone!" This was met with cheering from the dirty men.

"Well, let's git to it, then," Brye put in. "Wha's the point o' waitin'? Dey'se probably conspiratin' to murder all our women and childun's right now." He looked at his fellow conspirators grimly. His eyes were wide as an owl's, empty as his shot glass. "They's prob'ly gonna eat our innards after they kills us in our sleep!" The men looked about them warily, as if the savages had snuck into the bar behind their backs. They looked apprehensively at Brye, who was mumbling to himself, that is until he realized they were all staring at him. Then he continued. "Le's go get some more men, we needs an army here," he rambled. "A great army, one that can wipe the cannibals off they's cannibal feet!" He stood up abruptly, making a swinging motion with his arm as if he were swiping at something.

The man with the black tattoo on his arm interjected. "I don' think we should go about the town like that fellas," he said, fingering his pint of beer, which was full to the brim. "We told Charlie we'd only be out for a quick discussion of his proposition."

Harker looked up at him. "You're the one who told us to have a beer here in the first place, and da one with the idea to take the injun's land, so wha's ya problem wit' us takin' a bit longer to get back? This won't take dat long… besides, Mr. Jaegar will be happy when he learns that we gotted him some land for our project!" The other men agreed to that, sucking even more alcohol into their systems to celebrate.

The black tattoo man shrugged. "If it'll help Charlie, then maybe he won't be angry 'bout it. You guy's choice, though," he pointed to the others. He smiled inwardly. They all smiled groggily.

It was agreed.

Seven men stood up as one, so happy in their drunkenness they didn't realize one of them hadn't moved, and walked up towards the bartender, a middle aged lady with heavy makeup adorning her face. Harker led the bunch. "Here's the money toots," he breathed in her face. She recoiled as she took the money, putting it in the register as if she were throwing away a dead rat. The black tattoo man watched them from the recently vacated table, smirking. He finally took a sip of his drink.

The men hooted and hollered as they ran outside, shouting vulgar words at a young chinese train worker who had gotten in their way. The seven of them kicked up dust as they swayed through the serpentine streets. The men infiltrated the slums of San Fransisco, spreading their disease to the ears of other disturbed men. They found their guns and their knives and nooses, happy with glee that they would finally get rid of the bugs that invaded their home, those damned injuns! The beasts would be repayed for trying to take their land! The blind men ranted and raved, fulfilling the end of a time already long gone.

The man with the black tattoo on his arm left the pub and reported to Charlie. Charlie was pleased.

The mob met in the eastern outskirts of San Francisco in front of Harker's home, torches blazing and voices a-fraying with all the screaming they wrought. Charlie was waiting for them. He was proud; proud not of his drunken men, but of himself. The men thought it was their idea, but they were widely mistaken. Charlie had been planning this for months. He smiled at the black tattooed man, immersing himself in his coercing thoughts. He had all of the men ready to do anything he desired, at his slightest whim; they were in his thrall. Chants and voiceless shouts echoed off into the distance like a beacon.

This was what awoke the 'Cassidy kid', who was asleep in the barns again. The lights from the madmen's torches cast a flickering light on an appaloosa horse neighing in protest of the annoying sounds. Cassidy popped up next to the horse, brushing hay off her worn jeans and picking it out of her hair. Her eyes narrowed at what she saw outside the window. A haze of flickering lights followed each other down the Native American's trail off into the distance. It looked like a glowing ant army off to raid the cupboard. A silhouette of a man stood next to Harker's house, unmoving in the moonlight.

"The bastards," she muttered. "Why did it have to be tonight?" Not even bothering to saddle her horse, she jumped on bare-back and rode him out of his stall. "Whoa, Jack." She grabbed her guns off of a shelf by the barn door. She made sure they were loaded and then put them in the holsters around her waist. Cassidy then slid off her horse silently, to which Jack protested. "It's alright," she rubbed his muzzle. "I have to see to something."

The stable door creaked open and Cassidy peered into the yard. The silhouette was still there. She walked out into the open and eased the door shut, eyes wide with fear. Taking a deep breath, Cassidy creeped towards the tall figure, hand at her pistol. She shivered in the crisp, cold air.

"How did I know you would be here, girl?" Cassidy jumped a mile high. Charlie turned around laughing, his smile grotesque. His dark eyes glinted. "I've done it this time, I've really done it! California is mine for the taking." He lifted a cigar to his mouth with a ringed hand. Cassidy couldn't breathe. Charlie shook his head mockingly. "Poor, poor Jonathan. The man's as gullible as a puppy dog. Walked right into my hands, he did. I should've done this years ago." His right hand was in his coat pocket. Cassidy knew why.

"Why are you here, Charlie?" Cassidy's voice was so soft she could barely hear it herself. She gripped her pistols tightly.

"Why, I thought you knew that, Cass." He looked her in the eye and she looked away. "It's been years. You look like a woman now." He took a step toward her and she backed away a step towards the stable door. "Besides, your Indian friends needed to be… fixed."

She looked at him sharply, almost pleadingly, not believing. Did he mean what she thought he meant? "Charlie…" She backed up farther. Then her anger overcame her shock, and she pulled out a pistol with a shaking hand. "You didn't, oh you didn't!" she shrieked. Cassidy's eyes misted over.

"But I did." He took another puff from his cigar, the image of calmness. He stared off into the black sky wistfully. "You deserve it for what you did, they deserve it for fraternizing with you." His eyes turned red and he smashed his cigar between his fingers. "I've just ruined your life, bitch, and made money in the process." He whipped his right hand out of his pocket, brandishing a knife. He stared at it, his sadistic eyes staring back at him in the silvery reflection. He giggled, a strange sound coming from a grown man. It was unnerving.

Cassidy backed into the stable door and her horse bolted out whinnying, causing Charlie to drop his weapon in surprise. Seizing the moment, Cassidy jumped onto her horse's back and they galloped off, Charlie shouting behind them. Cassidy whispered thank-you's and blessings into her horse's ear while holding on limply. Darkness enveloped them as they followed the narrow path the mob had taken.

Clouds covered the moon above; Cassidy could see nothing but her horse's mane and the thin dirt path. The path was hundreds of years old, but still as narrow as it had been when the first Indian had formed it. Along the sides the grasses were bent and broken as a result of the bumbling mob; but they would grow back as everything did. Cassidy sat up on her horse shakily, dreading what came ahead. She did not want to see Death again. They were not on good terms with each other.

Finally, after a few hours, the path ended, and the moon ran away from the clouds, trying to shine its light onto the clearing ahead; but it could not shine through the thick gray air.

Haze. A dark haze covered it all; the trees, the teepees, the river. A haze of gun smoke. Or was it just the men's clouded heads? Cassidy couldn't remember. There was shouting and yelling and screaming and blood and people lying everywhere. She rode past it all, hoping beyond hope, dodging men and animals. Through the trees. Past broken teepees. Into another clearing, following another small path. She looked and they weren't there. The teepee wasn't even there. Somehow it had been ripped from the ground. The mob had turned into a tornado.

Then there they were- or there she was- for her mother was lying on the ground, motionless. The small girl was sitting next to her mother, sobbing uncontrollably as she shook her. The toddler jumped at every sound, her tear-streaked face permanently contorted from its babyish glow. Her matted raven hair was stiff and did not move in the wind. The silence of the clearing was deafening.

Cassidy fell off her horse. "Nokomis… is she…" She stumbled over to them and moved the hair off of the fallen women's face delicately. Her eyes were open, but there was nothing in them. There was a long slash across the woman's throat, no longer trickling blood. A stick cracked behind her, warning her. Cassidy whirled around, eyes already wide with shock and disbelief.

There they were, the cannibals that had killed all of the helpless people. And they weren't Indians.

Cassidy grabbed Nokomis by her shirt and backed up slowly. The bloodthirsty intoxicated wolves of men edged forward, voices growling together as one. She looked down when she stumbled into something wet and noticed they had reached the river. Cassidy gulped.

The guns came out. The guns were cocked. Nokomis whimpered. Cassidy hugged her and yelled something at the men. They laughed, a horrible grating sound to Cassidy's ears. And then they ended her. Swiped her off the earth as if they could play God.

They pulled the trigger.

The small, unwielding brain of hers tried to work; it tried to move and live and be as the toddler slumped beside her. But something smothered its senses. Dark, velvety red blossomed from the little girl's chest and she couldn't breathe; Cassidy stared in horror until all she could see was the red rose of death on her little friend's chest. The men were finally silent.

The little Indian girl's coughs echoed throughout the clearing; Cassidy's heart twisted and cracked and bubbled and snapped. Blood trailed from the little girl's mouth as she choked on it; the oily, greasy, feeble men looked on, dumbfounded. Nokomis stared unseeingly into the crimson sky. Her blood mixed with the water, swirling and curling together before it turned into a murky brown.

Cassidy couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She couldn't feel. She couldn't smell. Her mind concentrated on the coppery taste of blood in her mouth, not wanting to remember. Copper. Red. Filth. Death.

A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to update this; it has turned out to be much longer than I thought it would be. It would be greatly appreciated that if you find Cassidy to be "Mary-Sueish" as a character in any way, you would review and tell me exactly how and why so that I might fix it. I find that I usually make my characters one-sided and bland by accident, and only by another person's prodding can I usually see it. I'll rewrite/revise the next chapter as soon as I get the chance.


End file.
